


John's Choice

by CR Noble (erudite12)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drinking, F/M, Surprise Children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudite12/pseuds/CR%20Noble
Summary: Word Count: 1.9KA/N: So, I fully intended to post this Friday for Angst appreciation on Tumblr, but unfortunately I got home super late last night and I have had a rather long weekend, and I wasn’t able to get it done in time :( but here it is, my first fic in a very long time, I hope you guys enjoy. I am tagging all the people I used to tag as the usual suspects.





	John's Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 1.9K  
>  A/N: So, I fully intended to post this Friday for Angst appreciation on Tumblr, but unfortunately I got home super late last night and I have had a rather long weekend, and I wasn’t able to get it done in time :( but here it is, my first fic in a very long time, I hope you guys enjoy. I am tagging all the people I used to tag as the usual suspects.

gif is not mine

John took a long drink from the whiskey-filled glass and sighed. He would rather have been in his motel room, drinking straight from the bottle, but instead he sat in a small bar. At eleven thirty in the morning, it was pretty close to empty, and John had definitely had a few too many.

 What the hell was he doing? He was on a job, and normally he wouldn’t be drinking like this so early in the day, but this case reminded him of the case he was working when he met you. He should have told you everything, but he was afraid of getting you hurt. He was afraid of chasing you away, but that was exactly what he had done.

* * *

“I can’t believe this!” you yelled, pacing the floor in your living room. “A year, John, an entire year! And you’ve been lying to me the whole time?”

 “Y/N, I’m sorry,” John replied. He was sitting on your couch, trying his best to stay calm, “But can we please have this fight later? You’re bleeding. Let me patch you up, or at least take you to a hospital.” He reached out for you, but you jerked away.

 You were too angry to care about the blood on your face or the blood running down your arm, flying in little droplets onto the carpet every time you moved. “How could you do this?”

 “I’m sorry!” John stood, throwing his hands up. “I don’t know what else you want from me. I can’t take it back. I didn’t want to drag you into this life, Y/N. It’s dangerous, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

 “Dangerous?” you spat. You turned to him, scowling. “No shit, it’s dangerous. I almost died tonight!” You turned away from John again. “God, I can’t even look at you right now. You are not the man I fell in love with.”

 “Yes, baby, I am,” John said, “I am exactly the same man you fell in love with. I’m the same man that fell in love with you. I just wanted to protect you, and I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

 “I can’t do this,” you said, trying to fight back the tears welling in your eyes. “Just go.”

 “What? No, I am not leaving you like this. We need to talk about this.”

 “Get out,” you said quietly. He stepped closer to you, and this time you yelled it. “Get out! Don’t come back. Ever!”

* * *

The demon attack that had given you the jagged scar that trailed from your shoulder and down your bicep had been a rude awakening for you. John told you he was a businessman, and that he travelled a lot for work. You, foolish and in love, had believed him. Everything had changed when the demons had come for you.

 If he had just told you the truth, you could have made the choice. Maybe you would have been a little more prepared to deal with the attack. So you made him leave. The truth was, you were terrified, and you simply reacted based on that fear. You regretted it later, and you tried to find John, but the number he had left with you didn’t work anymore.

 You knew the only way you would ever see him again would be to start hunting yourself. You had to find him. There were so many things you still needed to say to him. You wanted to hold him in your arms again, and tell him that you still loved him. He needed to know about Jason. So in the last two years, you spent all of your free time learning everything you could about the supernatural world, and you had even killed a few monsters. To get your son to sleep at night, you would tell him stories about his father, the great hero John Winchester.

* * *

 John was drunk, but he still cleared the vamp nest without too much trouble. He headed back to the motel to sleep off the whiskey before finding his next job. He had just laid on the bed and closed his eyes when he heard a knock at the door. He grabbed his pistol off the side table and went to the door, looking through the peephole. He nearly dropped the gun in surprise. He opened the door.

 “Y/N?” he asked, not believing his eyes.

 “Hello, John,” you said. The two of you stared at each other for a long, awkward moment. “Can I come in?”

 “Yeah, of course.” John stepped back from the door, trying to wipe the surprised expression off his face. “What are you doing here?”

 You walked into the motel room and looked around. You had a room in your basement that looked a lot like this now. There were pictures and newspaper articles pinned to one wall, and a duffle bag full of different weapons sitting on a table. Little vials of holy water, holy oil, and dead man’s blood sat next to the duffle bag, like they had been hastily removed in the search for something else. You walked over and sat in a chair that was set up near the window.

 “I missed you,” you said simply.

 “You missed me?” John asked. He was suddenly angry. “You kicked me out, Y/N. Now you just show up again, saying you missed me and expecting what?”

 “I’m not expecting anything, John,” you said. You pushed your hair back from your face and looked him in the eye. “I came to apologize. It was a mistake, throwing you out the way I did and I have regretted it every day since I did it.” You weren’t sure how he was going to react, but you knew that if the situation were reversed, you would be angry. He paced for few minutes before he looked at you with fire in his eyes.

 “What am I supposed to do now? Fall at your feet? Tell you it’s all okay and I forgive you? Gush about how much I have wished this day would come?” John fumed. He couldn’t believe that you were sitting in front of him, calmly telling him that you were sorry about kicking him out. Why was he angry at you? The whole thing had been his fault. Why couldn’t he just tell you that? Why couldn’t he just pull you out of that chair and close to him and kiss your lips as he held you against him. “Well, that’s not going to happen, sweetheart.”

 His anger hurt you, but you understood where it came from. You watched him for a while as he started pacing again. He looked so different, but so much like the man you had fallen in love with. His hair was longer than you remembered, and there were almost imperceptible specks of gray in the chestnut locks now. What used to be a carefully cultivated five o’clock shadow had grown thicker and longer. There was a scar above his eyebrow that hadn’t been there before, but his eyes, the beautiful hazel orbs that your son had inherited, hadn’t changed at all. Your heart thumped rapidly in your chest, but you kept your face as neutral as possible.

 “I understand,” you said, voice shaking ever so slightly. “I still had to come here. I still had to say it. There’s more, John. You might want to sit down.”

 “I don’t want to sit down, actually,” John said, “I don’t even know if I want to talk to you anymore. I don’t know why you’re still here. What do you want from me?”

 You didn’t say anything, you just reached into the back pocket of your jeans, pulled out a small square of paper, and held it out to him. He just stared at the paper in your hand.

 “What is that?” he asked.

 “Just take it, John,” you said.

 He reached out and took the square, staring at you for a moment before looking down at it. His eyes went wide, and he took a couple of steps back and slowly sat down on the corner of the bed. It was a wallet sized photograph of a small child, about fifteen months old with dark brown hair and bright hazel eyes.

 “Is this…” John started. “Is he…”

 “He’s our son, John,” you said. John looked up at you, eyes still wide. “His name is Jason.”

 All the anger John felt melted away while he looked at the picture. It was strange. This was his fourth child, and it still felt the same way.

 “Y/N, I don’t know what to say,” John said, “Does he know who I am?”

 “Yes, of course he does,” you said, smiling. “I tell him stories about you every night. The real you, the you that saves people. He knows about his brothers, too.”

 “How do you know any stories about me? I never told you anything about hunting.”

 “I tried to find you. When I couldn’t, I learned everything I could about the supernatural, and I started hunting. Figured I would run into someone who knew you eventually, and I did. Turns out you’re a legend.”

 “You’re a hunter now?” John asked, quietly. You nodded in response. “But this is exactly what I didn’t want. This is why I didn’t tell you about my life.”

 “I know. But I had to find you, and this was the only way.” You moved to sit next to John on the bed. “I know it doesn’t change the way things are, John, but I am sorry for judging you so harshly. I was scared. I…”

 “I know you were scared. I was, too. I thought if I told you the truth, you would run from me… from us.” John ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “The truth is, I owe you an apology.”

 You reached over and took his hand in yours, feeling the roughness of every callous against the soft skin of your own fingers. “John, I love you. I don’t care about the rest of it. Come home with me.”

 “I want to, Y/N,” John said, looking down at the picture again, “But it’s too dangerous. My enemies will come after you. They’ll come after Jason.”

 “John, I can protect myself now. I can protect our son. You don’t have to be afraid of us getting hurt.”

 “Y/N, you don’t understand. I’m not talking vampires and werewolves, here. I’m talking angels and end times. I can’t put you in that kind of danger.”

 “After all this, you still won’t come home to me? To your son?” you asked, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. John put the photo of Jason down and reached over to brush a thumb across your cheek.

 “I love you,” he said, and pulled you to him and brushed a soft kiss against your lips. “And that is why I can’t go home with you.”

 You wiped the tears from your eyes and pushed away from John. “I guess I should get out of here then.” You stood and started toward the door, but stopped and looked over your shoulder at him. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

 You walked out the door.


End file.
